


Studio Holodeck-4

by greenieboy



Series: Holo-dates [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: 70s dance club themed, F/F, First Kiss, Holodeck Adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenieboy/pseuds/greenieboy
Summary: Deanna and Beverly enjoy some off time in the Enterprise’s holodeck.
Relationships: Beverly Crusher/Deanna Troi
Series: Holo-dates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859728
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Studio Holodeck-4

**Author's Note:**

> hiii i don’t have a beta so if there are mistakes, i am rly sorry. the title is based off of the popular club Studio 54, and i tried to keep it a little vague bc i wrote this at like 3am. also i know i should be working on the multi chapter thing in trying to write but meh. anyway i love these gays

Beverly stood outside the holodeck, clad in a gown fit for an era from centuries ago. It glittered and shined, a bold magenta color, but in a very refined way. Beverly felt a little silly, standing in the corridor all glammed up, but Deanna had told her to dress the part for their holodeck excursion so she had. The doctor had poured over records from the period in American history known as the 1970s, from fashion to culture to politics, in preparation for her and Deanna’s outing. Now if only the Betazoid would  _ arrive _ so the outing could begin.

They were stationed at Starbase 153 for routine inspection, and they were due to remain there for three days. Deanna had been the one to suggest they use the holodeck, as there was a conference currently at the Starbase and neither felt particularly interested in being roped into the lectures after their past week on the Enterprise. From assisting Laenorian refugees to stopping a Haxitoic terrorist group from using Starfleet’s flagship as an example of their dedication to their cause, to having Lwaxana spend a few days onboard, the crew had faced their share of stress. So, some scheduled holodeck time had sounded just right to the doctor and the counselor.

“Sorry for being late, I couldn’t decide on what outfit to replicate,” Beverly heard Deanna call from behind her. She looked over her shoulder at her friend, the breath in her chest being knocked out as she took in Deanna’s outfit of choice. It was a black polyester suit with a white button up shirt, and the majority of top buttons were undone, exposing a hint of Deanna’s chest. Beverly found herself focusing a considerable amount of willpower on  _ not staring. _ She certainly hadn’t expected Deanna to join her dressed like this, and the doctor could feel her face warming. Deanna looked… good. In truth, the woman looked better than good, but allowing herself to think on that would only open the doctor up to less than platonic feelings. Beverly swallowed said feelings, tucking them away as deep as she could manage.

“Oh, don’t apologize,” said Beverly, smiling as she turned to face the Betazoid. “You look gorgeous, Deanna.

Deanna smiled, tilting her head back to look up at Beverly. “Thank you very much,” she replied softly, her cheeks a warm, rosy color. Was that blush? Beverly was pulled from her thoughts as Deanna cleared her throat, the same smile on her lips, but a new glint in her dark eyes. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Beverly.”

The doctor snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’d like to believe I clean up pretty well,” she replied, earning a laugh from her friend as Deanna moved to the panel to access their program. Deanna had mentioned before that Data designed this program, and Beverly wondered just how accurate it was meant to be. She gazed over the top of the empath’s head, smirking as she realized that in these heels, she was far taller than usual. And Deanna was already so small.

Deanna stood back from the computer, holding her hand out to Beverly with a dazzling grin on her lips. “That should do it,” she asserted, and Beverly took her hand and stood beside her, anticipation swiftly brewing in her chest.

The computer chimed.  _ “Program running. Enter when ready.” _ Beverly felt Deanna squeeze her hand as the doors to the computer-generated disco lounge slid open, revealing the dance club within. They marveled for a moment, eyes wide as they took in the scene: hundreds of bodies pressed together, dancing, drinking, smoking. Beverly felt somewhat intimidated, but her hesitation had no time to fester as soon she was being drawn inside by Deanna. They were enveloped by the music and people as the doors closed behind them, and Beverly squinted in the dim lights, hardly able to see a thing. Deanna didn’t seem to have the same problem, though, and certainly appeared to know her way around the program as she pulled Beverly to the bar.

“Two Harvey Wallbangers, please,” Deanna told the bartender loudly, holding up two fingers. The man nodded silently as he went about preparing the drinks. Deanna shot Beverly a smile, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the lights.

“Have you used this program before?” Beverly asked, but her voice sounded drowned out in the music. Deanna furrowed her brow and said something Beverly couldn’t hear. The doctor cleared her throat and leaned into Deanna, somewhat invading her personal space. She inhaled, caught off guard by her friend’s perfume invading her nose. “Have you used this program before?” She asked again, louder this time.

Deanna nodded, leaning into Beverly in return. “Yes, when Data showed me the finished version,” she said, face only centimeters from the doctor’s. Beverly pursed her lips, nodding as the bartender placed their drinks in front of them. Deanna took up hers and shifted to stand with her back to the bar, sipping the drink as her eyes scanned over the crowd. Beverly reached for her own drink, observing the empath out of the corner of her eye. She seemed so at ease in this environment; she always did enjoy the time period options offered by the holodeck. Beverly, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel out of place. She always did in era-centric holodeck programs. Perhaps sensing her mild discomfort, Deanna placed her hand atop Beverly’s, offering a charming smile and leaning up. “Do you want to dance?” She asked in Beverly’s ear, setting her drink on the bar.

“But… we just got our drinks,” Beverly pointed out.

Deanna took Beverly’s hands, saying, “We can come back to them.” She pulled Beverly onto the dance floor, bringing their bodies close together, and Beverly felt distinctly hot as she glanced around. No one paid them any mind, and she felt a little silly for worrying about how computer-generated people perceived them.

“Deanna…” she said softly.

“Come on, Doctor Crusher,” teased the Betazoid, wrapping her arms around Beverly’s neck. “I know you’ve got a couple moves.” Beverly understood Deanna’s challenge, a smirk spreading on her lips as she held Deanna tightly.

“Well, maybe I know a few.”

Then, they were dancing. Deanna didn’t have the extensive skill set that Beverly did when it came to dancing, but she followed the beat just fine and matched Beverly’s movements without a hitch. While Deanna was the one wearing a suit, Beverly led them for the most part. They were easily better dancers than anyone else on the floor, but perhaps that was because they weren’t a part of a computer simulation. All the same, they danced. Beverly could hardly see a thing except for Deanna, and that was only because the woman was so close to her. Deanna kept that lovely smile on her lips the entire time they were on the floor, and the way she looked in those moments - lit by the dim, colorful lights - caused bouts of adoration and affection to bloom like wildflowers in Beverly’s chest. She wondered if the empath could sense her emotions, or if she was more focused on the environment. She sure hoped her friend couldn’t sense Beverly’s overwhelming urge to kiss her. There was no possible way of swallowing the emotion; it was stuck like a lump lodged in her throat that was slowly cutting off her air supply and making her dizzy.

“Come with me,” shouted Deanna, as she suddenly led them off the dance floor. Beverly followed blindly, snaking through the crowd of dancers with one hand holding onto Deanna’s for dear life. Vaguely, she feared being separated, and the tightness of her grip intensified. Deanna looked back at her as they moved, her eyes twinkling in a way that made Beverly’s cheeks go red. She had it bad, and this environment wasn’t helping in the slightest. Deanna released her hand after they had escaped the crowd, still guiding Beverly until they reached a booth table tucked away in the back of the club. “Wait here, I’ll get us drinks,” the empath whispered hotly in Beverly’s ear, her hand resting on the small of Beverly’s back, before kissing her cheek swiftly and disappearing into the crowd again. Beverly’s hand rose to her cheek, fingers brushing the skin alive with electricity from Deanna’s touch. Her heart was damn near hammering in her chest.

She sat in the booth, grateful for the relief. Her feet were on fire after so much dancing in outdated high heels, and Beverly couldn’t even recall how long they had been on the floor for. Regardless, she was enjoying herself. This program was perfect for de-stressing after their long week. Even if it was sparking some feelings in Beverly that the doctor preferred to keep a tight lid on. Surely Deanna knew by now how Beverly was feeling. Had been feeling for the past few months. Maybe she wanted Beverly to make the first move. Maybe she was egging her on. Beverly felt like she was reading too much into it all, but Deanna had seemed flirtier than usual, touching Beverly and smiling at her in a way that left Beverly’s mouth dry.

“Deanna,” Beverly murmured as the counselor slid into the booth next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the doctor.

“Here, I got you a Manhattan,” said Deanna, passing off the drink to Beverly as she sipped from her own drink. Beverly took a large gulp of the Manhattan; it burned like alcohol, but she wondered if it could really cause intoxication. Deanna smiled at her, resting her arm on the table. “How does it taste?”

“Like a real alcoholic beverage,” replied Beverly. “I wonder how they managed to reproduce these drinks so accurately, I mean it must have taken ages to program the-“ Beverly’s words died in her throat when Deanna’s hand fell to her thigh, the empath’s eyes trained on the crowd as she drank from her glass. The nerve endings in her leg were aflame, and Beverly felt like she was being swallowed up by heat. Maybe these drinks  _ could _ intoxicate you; she clearly felt intoxicated, but whether that was from the “alcohol” or Deanna’s perfume - now the only thing the doctor could smell - Beverly couldn’t say.

“I love this program,” Deanna sighed softly, resting her head on Beverly’s shoulder. “Are you having fun?” She asked, glancing up at Beverly with her big, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” Beverly said. Deanna smiled and closed her eyes, satisfied. She looked ethereal in the lights of the club, like that of a vision and not a woman. That urge returned to Beverly with a fervor, and Beverly craved nothing more than to cup both the counselor’s cheeks and kiss her deeply as the loud music engulfed them. Deanna glanced up at her then, giving Beverly a curious and somewhat mischievous look. Then, without any warnings, the empath connected their lips, and her hand was on the back of Beverly’s neck, holding her there. Beverly leaned into the embrace, deepening the kiss and wrapping an arm around her friend’s waist. Their kiss was heady, hot, passionate, and it was consuming. They shifted, and Beverly felt a rush as Deanna’s hand tangled in her hair.

They broke apart at the sound of someone’s throat clearing. A man stood before them. He looked disgusted, and Beverly dimly recalled that same-sex couples were not typically welcome in this era. It would seem that Data had been thorough in his programming. Deanna glanced at Beverly, wiping smudges of lipstick from her lips.

“Pardon us,” she said to the man, shuffling out of the booth. “We were just leaving.” She held her hand out to Beverly, who took it willingly, a playful smile on both their faces. She stood up as Deanna called, “Computer, show exit.” Beverly raised her eyebrows at the empath. The woman simply smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind Beverly’s ear. “Let’s get out of here,” she said softly.

Beverly grinned. “Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos or comment if u enjoyed, and find me on tumblr @ stonktrek


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